


i'll have you know, i'm scared to death.

by ptrpan89



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, F/F, G!P, beca and stacie are super close, the teachers will not be breaking the law like every other fic, there are wolf shifters but not the lame kind?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-12 07:49:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5658382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ptrpan89/pseuds/ptrpan89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Beca set the beer down on the concrete by her feet and looked up into Chloe’s eyes, shaking the hand offered to her. Then it happened. Beca couldn’t quite describe the feeling; sort of like every cell in her body exploded at once, carefully reconstructed its entire being, then arranged itself so that they all rested in exactly the right places, exactly where they were supposed to be. Beca had obviously never felt this before but she had heard plenty of stories and knew what was happening. Winded like she had run a marathon, she breathed out her own introduction."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All I own is a few dollars, too many pets, and a debilitating crush on Chloe Beale.  
> I definitely do not own Pitch Perfect.

Beca set up a playlist to run in her absence, grabbed a beer from the minibar behind her, and headed to the small smoking area outside of the club. As she stepped out and lit up she noticed a redhead leaning against the brick wall struggling with her lighter.

 

“Having trouble?” Beca held her lighter out to the woman.

 

“Oh,” she looked over at Beca, tossing her lighter into the trashcan nearby, “Thank you.”

 

Beca took a few steps away, she didn’t want to seem like a creeper, and alternated inhales and exhales with sips from the bottle in her hand. Soon the other woman moved to stand in front of Beca, holding her hand out.

 

“Hi, I’m Chloe.”

 

Beca set the beer down on the concrete by her feet and looked up into Chloe’s eyes, shaking the hand offered to her. Then it happened. Beca couldn’t quite describe the feeling; sort of like every cell in her body exploded at once, carefully reconstructed its entire being, then arranged itself so that they all rested in exactly the right places, exactly where they were supposed to be. Beca had obviously never felt this before but she had heard plenty of stories and knew what was happening. Winded like she had run a marathon, she breathed out her own introduction.

 

They stood, appraising one another. Chloe was an inch or so taller than Beca, with thick and wavy red hair past her shoulders, contrasting Beca’s dark chestnut hair. They both had blue eyes but where Chloe’s were a startling shade of light blue, Beca’s were a very rare dark blue. The brunette was wearing a black v-neck under a black leather jacket, dark red skinny jeans tucked into black boots, and her white headphones around her neck. Chloe was wearing a black scrap of fabric masquerading as a little black dress, grey leather ankle boots, and her black eyeliner made the color of her eyes pop even more.

 

“I don’t usually smoke, you know?” Beca hummed, too caught up in what was happening to her to respond. “But my best friend and I came here with her boyfriend and some of his friends. My friend, however, has been chatting up a gorgeous bartender for almost an hour now and I’m stressed about how her asshole boyfriend is going to react to that once he notices.”

 

“Tall, brunette, looks like a Victoria’s Secret model?” Beca asked and Chloe nodded.

 

“Oh, that’s my best friend, Stacie. You’re friend is safe with her, promise.”

 

“What do you mean, safe?”

 

“Sorry, it’s not, like, dangerous in there or anything. I mean she’s not going to like… take advantage of your friend, or let her get too drunk, or let any sketchy dudes mess with her.”

 

“That’s good to know. Thanks.” Chloe smiled at her and Beca almost tripped over herself opening the door for the redhead.

 

“Listen, if you get bored or if you just want to get away from her boyfriend, you two are welcome in the DJ booth with me.” Beca shoved her hands in her pockets and nodded up the stairs they stood next to, attempting a charming smile.

 

“Wait, you’re the DJ?” Beca nodded. “Oh my god! I’ve loved everything you’ve played so far. Wow, that’s actually really hot.”

 

Beca’s eyes widened as Chloe pupils dilated further and she stepped forward to kiss Beca’s cheek. “I’ll talk to Aubrey about it. See you soon, hopefully!” And with an endearing wink the crowd swallowed Chloe up on her way back to the bar.

 

_Hey Stace, I need a favor. The blonde you’re talking to has a friend named Chloe. Red hair, black dress, and bright blue eyes? Keep an eye on her for me please?_

 

_Will do, boss! ;)_

Beca smiled, slipping her phone back into her pocket on her way up the stairs and got back to work.

* * *

 

Beca and Stacie walked out of the club together, the taller brunette’s arm slung over her best friends shoulder. As they approached the parking lot, Beca saw Chloe and a blonde sitting on a bench under a light not ten feet from her car. The blonde was wearing a green dress no less skimpy than her friends and they were leaning against each other giggling quietly.

 

“Jesus, Stacie, you had one job.”

 

“Hey,” Stacie huffed, “They’re both very convincing. You try saying no to those faces.”

 

“Hello, Chloe.”

 

“Aubrey, hi.”

 

Both girls’ heads snapped up with goofy, drunken grins.

 

“You two never came up to the booth.” Beca pouted accusingly.

 

Chloe giggled, waving a dismissive hand around and almost punching Aubrey with it. “Sorry. _Someone’s_ boyfriend was being a jerk. They got in a fight and he left without us.”

 

The brunettes looked at each other, silently communicating with an ease born from several years of friendship. “Would you ladies like rides home?” Beca questioned.

 

“Oh,” Aubrey scrunched up her face into an overly apologetic expression. “We wouldn’t want to impose.” She and Chloe shook their heads back and forth simultaneously and widened their eyes like small children asking for ice cream after dinner.

 

Stacie grinned. “Beca and I like to think of ourselves as something like gentlemen. Our poor, fragile egos would be wounded if you didn’t accept.”

 

The blonde and redhead had their own wordless communication, nodded at each other, and stood. Chloe slipped her hand into Beca’s and the brunette froze for a second before relaxing. It felt nice, warm and soft. Stacie was leading Aubrey towards her gunmetal grey ’69 Ford Mustang when the blonde abruptly spun around, Stacie’s arm helping her keep balance. “Wait, but we share an- “

 

Chloe made an unsubtle slicing motion across her body. “Shh. Thank you so much, Stacie. Bree, let me know when you get in, okay?”

 

“What? But we... _Oh._ Ohhh, okay.” Aubrey drunkenly exaggerated a wink. Stacie snorted and they resumed their journey.

 

Beca lead Chloe by the hand to her matte black ’69 Chevy Camaro and helped the redhead into the passenger seat. Chloe gave her address and Beca smiled because she knew exactly where it was. The redhead sang softly to the music on the radio and retook possession of Beca’s hand. She had to shift gears with the same hand she was steering with, but Beca didn’t mind at all.

 

Standing outside Chloe’s apartment door, the redhead slid her hand into the inside pocket of Beca’s jacket and snatched the cell phone in there. Beca laughed, guessing what Chloe’s intentions were. When her phone was returned, she laughed harder at the ‘ _smokin redhead from the club (Chloe)’_ followed by a fire emoji above the new number.

 

“Call me, maybe?”

 

Beca smirked, trying not to laugh again. “Definitely.”

 

Chloe bit her lip and tilted her head to the right. “I like your face. A lot.”

 

“Than- “ Suddenly, Chloe’s soft, soft lips were folding over her own and Beca sucked in a sharp breath through her nose. Chloe didn’t start off slowly and Beca instantly felt her emotions surge. She felt wild and out of control and it terrified that she couldn’t stop or pull back. She turned Chloe so her back was against the wall and carefully licked along the roof of her mouth. She tasted like vodka cran and disaster.

 

Unexpectedly, snickering and “My bad, Becs!” followed by a high-pitched “Oops!”

 

Beca looked over to see her friend helping Aubrey over the sidewalk’s curb and coming towards them. Chloe slowly released her grip on the lapels of the brunette’s jacket and cleared her throat.

 

“That’s alright, Stace.”

 

“You heading up?” She pointed upwards, towards the stairs above their heads and Beca nodded. “Alright. I’ll be up there soon, then.”

 

“Up?” Chloe asked.

 

Beca looked sheepish, hands shoved in her pockets, staring at her boots. “I actually live here, too. On the top floor.”

 

“Awesome.” Chloe smiled and quickly kissed Beca’s cheek. “Call me, text me, whatever!” And disappeared behind the door.

 

Beca just finished changing after a quick shower when her best friend burst through her door, grinning from ear to ear. Beca grinned back; glad her friend was happy but neither of them could hold in the news anymore.

 

“Dude, I imprinted on her!” they yelled at the same time.

 

* * *

 

Beca groaned and unearthed her head from beneath her pillow, only to immediately replace it. “Stace, you forgot to close the blinds. _Again.”_

Stacie, half sprawled across Beca’s back with her head between the girl’s shoulder blades and left arm stretched to curl her hand around her friends sharp hip bone, extended her neck to press her lip behind Beca’s ear. “Your room, your job.”

 

The DJ turned her head the other way, blinking into the room filled with bright Sunday afternoon light. Eventually, Stacie rolled so Beca could flip onto her back and then rolled right back to straddle her friend, sitting on her solid upper thighs inside loose sweats. Beca’s long, slender fingers rubbed up and down Stacie’s naked thighs where goose bumps rose until longer fingers threaded into her own. “So, we met our mates.”

 

Beca nodded, feeling a prickle of anxiety. Stacie’s lips were quirked to the left; the face she made when they were about to talk about important things.

 

“So we should probably stop having sex.”

 

Beca’s grip on Stacie’s fingers loosened, her eyes shuttered and closed off. Beca thought that was a foregone conclusion, she didn’t know why it needed to be discussed, she hated talking about things like this and Stacie knew it. It’s not like it would tear her apart; it wasn’t about passion or desire, after all. What they did started as experimentation and practice, when they were younger, and gradually morphed into the occasional fulfillment of a basic need that they both had. They knew from the beginning that they weren’t meant for romance but there was no denying the deep-seeded connection they shared. No, Beca wouldn’t necessarily miss the sex. What she would miss was the closeness, physical and emotional, that came with being as familiar as she was with her best friend. Beca didn’t behave the way she did with Stacie with anyone else, for a lot of reasons, but mostly because Stacie was the most important person in her life and she loved her deeply.

 

“Becs, sweetie, look at me.” Stacie smoothed her thumb over the furrow on her friend’s brow until it disappeared. “I don’t mean we should stop touching, being physically close with each other,” she said as she pushed her hands up Beca’s tank top to cradle her ribs on either side of her chest, stroking her thumb along the bone underneath her breast in a way soothed the girl, Beca had said it felt like Stacie was holding her together when she felt like falling apart. “I’m not sure I could, anyways, I mean, I think I need this. I need what I have with you now; it makes me feel special and protected and _happy_. You’re, well, I guess you’re my safe place?”

 

The DJ breathed a heavy sigh of relief and smiled fondly at the girl on top of her, biting her lip and looking nervous. It always amazed and comforted her that Stacie could voice her feelings so readily and fluently because Beca was the opposite and it made things much simpler. She sat up, tight abdominal muscles easily lifting her, and tapped a rhythm against the ridges of Stacie's spinal cord beneath her tank. “You’re my safe place too. You always will be. No matter what happens now.” She laid her cheek against Stacie's chest, listening to her heartbeat slow as the other girl negotiated nimble fingers through her hair, fixing the mess it had become while they slept.

 

“No matter what happens.” Stacie replied.

 

* * *

 

“Shit, shit, _shit._ ”

 

Beca was so late. She was going to be late on the first day of her senior year. _Shit._ She didn’t really have the time, but she set up the coffee pot and ran back to her room to get dressed while it dripped. If anyone expected her to form a coherent sentence today, she needed that coffee desperately. She flung herself down the stairs, shoving a granola bar in her mouth and finished chewing it as she was pulling out of the parking lot towards school. She chugged her black coffee because the school was a mere ten minutes away from where she lived and some teachers were really weird about food or drinks in the classroom. Luckily, just about everyone at school knew that she and Stacie always parked next to each other, so she swiftly pulled in next to the Mustang near the front and dashed towards her first period AP Literature. She barreled through the safety exit door at the back of the classroom, where she and her friends would usually sit because they had better eyesight than the normal students, with barely a minute to spare before the bell rang. She spotted her best friend in the middle of the back row sitting rigidly upright in her hard plastic chair, for some reason, and dropped a quick kiss to her temple before pouring into the seat next to her.

 

“Morning, Stace.”

 

“Becs, look up front.”

 

“What, why?” She swiveled her head to see what was so interesting at the front of the class and there she was. Chloe, the smokin’ redhead from the club; hair neatly tied into a bun with what looked like a no. 2 pencil, form-fitting black blazer over a blue blouse, tight black chinos that stopped right above corresponding blue pumps, and _black rimmed glasses_ , because, of course. The red head looked like her body had frozen in the process of organizing papers on her desk and her bright blue eyes were wide as saucers staring back at her. Beca’s eyes briefly flitted to the whiteboard behind the woman and could clearly read, in loopy, girly letters, ‘Miss Chloe Beale, AP Literature’.

 

“ _Shit_.”


	2. Chapter 2

The first class was typical. They reviewed the syllabus, introduced themselves, and wrote a small essay so Chloe, _Miss Beale_ , could evaluate them individually. She seemed like a great educator, objectively, allowing them to bring in coffee, laughing with her students, and exuding a sort of charisma that made it difficult not to like her. Beca went through the hour on autopilot, trying desperately not to think about what was happening and how this development would affect her relationship with her imprint, if they could have one at all.

 

She did manage to catch, however, the nervous, fidgety way the redhead glanced in her direction too often to be casual, like Chloe thought Beca might climb onto her desk and describe what it was like to kiss the Lit teacher to the whole class.

 

When, finally, the bull rung, Beca had already packed her things away and was just two steps from the relative freedom of the hallway when she heard, “Miss Mitchell, a moment please?” Stacie snickered quietly, kissed her cheek, and flounced off to her Stats class with a quiet, “It’ll be alright, Becs.”

 

“I knew you tasted like trouble.” They were alone now, Chloe, _Miss Beale, ugh,_ leaning on her desk with her arms crossed and her perfectly shaped eyebrow raised.

 

“Uh…”

 

“I mean, are you two even legal? How in the hell are you working at a _club_ and still attending _high school_? Were you even going to tell me or-“

 

“Whoa,” Beca held up her hands to stop the rant, stop the wildly flapping hands. “Calm your tits, Red. Stacie and I will be nineteen in two months. Her father, Luke who is our… brother of sorts, and I own the club so, yeah, we get away with some things.”

 

“Nineteen? What-“ her sentence was cut off by the warning bell for the second period and they both startled.

 

Beca ran a hand through her hair and adjusted the bag over her shoulder. “Shit, I’m going to be late. Can I get a pass, _Miss Beale_?”

 

“I’m sorry, yeah, of course.” Beca watched her open the desk drawer and fish out a notepad, plucking a lady bug pen out of an empty coffee mug atop the desk and smiled a little. “Beca, listen...”

 

“No, no, no, it’s alright. I realize this isn’t some YA romance novel. I’m not expecting you to risk your career, your reputation, on something as small as a kiss between strangers. How about, can we just, can we be friends, though?” Beca accepted the late pass and shoved it, along with both her hands, into the pockets of her black jeans anxiously.

 

The redhead’s entire body seemed to slump with relief and she exhaled loudly. “Yes, yes I’d love to be friends, Beca. Thank you for being so understanding.” And the wide smile she directed towards the brunette was so, so bright, Beca actually squinted her eyes a little.

 

“Cool, so, does that mean tomorrow you wont be constantly looking over at me like I might spontaneously word vomit all the sordid details to the whole school?” the DJ smirked watching a cute blush spread across the teacher’s face.

 

“Ohmygosh, I’m so sorry,” she hurried to apologize, taking a step forward. “It’s just that this is my first year here and its such a big step up from my last job and, and you’re laughing?”

 

“I was just messing with you, dude. I guess I should get to class, though.”

 

“Oh! By the way, you might want to warn Stacie that Aubrey is the AP Chemistry teacher.”

 

Beca snorted on her way out the door, “Of course she is.” Because it would never be easy for them, would it?

 

* * *

 

 

Weeks passed in a blur. Beca texted Chloe during a particularly boring lunch one day and they immediately started up an ongoing game of twenty questions. Chloe, it turned out, was bold and hardly hesitated to dive right into personal questions. Beca wouldn’t deny her but that didn’t mean she was used to, or even _good at_ , this communication thing. 

 

 

**_C:_ ** _#1 why haven’t you graduated yet?_

**_B:_ ** _wow, uh, well I missed a year of school when I had to move here. Stacie, the loyal idiot, refused to start high school without me. so we are both a year behind._

**_B:_ ** _what’s your current favorite song?_

Graciously, Chloe hadn’t asked about her parents and Beca was dreading the day that inevitable question came along. They were only on question five currently because they kept getting distracted with other things to talk about; music and books and their friends, for the most part, and the brunette found herself falling into the easy, exciting friendship at an alarming rate.

 

The redhead stopped watching her uncertainly during classes and now seemed to watch her only for her own amusement. Occasionally, the boys in class would try their hand at flirting with the hot young instructor and Beca would unconsciously start growling. Stacie would then have to reach across and smack her arm and rifle through her bag for an extra pencil because Beca had snapped hers in half.

 

Once, Beca stayed up too late the night before working on a new mix and overcompensated with the amount of coffee she consumed that morning. Her leg bounced through the entire class, continuing through the last thirty minutes when they were told to write quietly. Chloe weaved through desks like a dancer in stilettos, peeking over students shoulders, making sure they were all on track. When she passed behind Beca’s desk, she softly dragged her hand along the line of the brunette’s shoulders. Beca’s knee jerked, violently, up and straight through the desktop above her lap. _“Uh… my bad?”_ Stacie didn’t bother to hide her giggles.

 

Chloe would often rant about songs that got stuck in her head and, while her tastes were a little too _pop_ for Beca’s liking, the DJ couldn’t stop herself from weaving Chloe’s song into, through, and around songs of different genres. She would save those mixes to a memory stick and tape it to the teacher’s apartment door just before they usually got back from work. If, in the morning, Beca found a post-it suggesting more songs or a baggie of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, they didn’t talk about how students and teachers probably shouldn’t be exchanging presents this way, and Beca was just fine with that.

 

Stacie and Aubrey seemed to be playing the _‘no, of course there’s nothing going on’_ game just as well. It was rare that Beca didn’t see a folded up note bearing Aubrey’s name in Stacie’s perfect cursive when she was covertly taping her own things to the same door and she often found a separate baggie of snicker doodles, which she hated but Stacie adored, next to hers in the morning.

 

During AP Chem, Aubrey glared at Beca throughout the whole class and she still has no idea why. It isn’t like Beca has any control over her best friend spewing every chemistry related innuendo at their teacher, pumping a fist in the air every time Aubrey blushes.

 

* * *

 

 

It isn’t until the middle of October, mere days before her birthday, that the blissful bubble Beca managed to half convince herself was her new reality shattered like the screen of her phone she later threw at her bedroom wall.

 

She held it in, kept the pain and the anger and even the hint of humiliation to herself for an entire afternoon until she broke down during her weekly Sunday dinner with Stacie and her parents, Natalie and Mark Conrad.

 

Somewhere between _“Can you pass the potatoes?”_ and cutting up her pork chop with far too much enthusiasm, the venting started. “I imprinted on our literature teacher and I came home from a run this morning to see her letting out some flabby, frat, douche bro and they smelled like sex and I wanted to _puke_ but she waved and said hello like it’s all just fine and then she hugged me and I couldn’t stop her and the _stench_ was all over me. I had to scrub so hard in the shower.”

 

Mr. and Mrs. Conrad silently stared at her, Stacie reached under the table to firmly hold her hand, and Beca could see Mark, whom she was very close to, doing his best to mask the disappointment that the day had finally come when Beca imprinted on someone that was not his daughter. Beca knew he was happy for her; he would never wish for her to settle, it was just that he couldn’t currently pick anyone better for Stacie than Beca.

 

After the impromptu confession, Stacie gave her own, not only to relieve some of the pressure on Beca to spill all the details, but because she had been waiting for her friend to be ready to tell her parents, as a show of solidarity or something. The rest of the dinner was spent filling in Natalie, full to bursting with happiness and excitement, and Mark, thoughtful but attentive, on the when’s and how’s and the progression of things. After dinner, Beca helped Mark clear the table and start on dishes, and the smooth routine perfected over the four years she lived with them helped to calm Beca’s nerves.

 

“Do you think she feels _anything_ for me?” she asked because Mark was fully human, like Chloe, and sometimes Beca zoned out when he and Nat started talking about how she courted him and pursued him and how he felt about it at the time.

 

“She feels it, Becs, I promise.” His voice was deep and the rumble of it never failed to soothe Beca since she met him at fifteen and all she knew was that he was two feet taller than her and she’d never seen so many muscles in her life. “The bond grows differently, slower, in us than it would for you and Stace. This Chloe, she probably doesn’t understand why yet but she feels drawn to you, intrigued.”

 

“I can work with that, I guess. I mean, I know I shouldn’t have been surprised, should have probably expected it. She’s young and gorgeous and brilliant; of course she isn’t celibate. It’s just- I’ve never felt _wounded_ like that before. I should probably get used to it, though.”

 

“Mm. Seems you and my girl are playing the long game with these ladies. My advice is to make the most of it, savor the early days of getting to know her, but don’t forget to guard your heart, pup.”

 

* * *

 

 

The following days were tough. With Beca scrambling to pick up the pieces of her pride, and other gooey emotions she preferred not to speak of, while keeping in mind what Stacie’s mother whispered to her during their goodbye hug. _“In my experience, the strongest relationships are between lovers who are also each other’s best friends.”_

 

She wondered if Chloe noticed, or even cared, that every time she saw them, Beca and Stacie were holding hands or the taller brunette’s arm was slung around her shoulders.

 

Wednesday afternoon, Chloe found Beca sitting alone on a bench near the duck pond in their complex. The DJ was staring out into nothing and trying not to think at all when the redhead silently sat next to her and didn’t speak for several minutes.

 

Finally, “Can we talk?” and Beca sighed, nodded a yes. “Are you okay? You seem a bit off the past two days.”

 

The brunette chewed her lip, debating how to play this conversation. She chose honesty. “I don’t want to ever lie to you, Chloe, so no, I’m not really okay right now, but I don’t particularly want to talk about it, either.”

 

Chloe was quiet for a few moments but her brow was creased in thought and Beca knew her well enough to understand she couldn’t hold her questions in for too long. “Is this about Sunday? Because I-“ and she cut herself off, expecting Beca to interject, maybe, but Beca stubbornly refused to guide this discussion after she said she didn’t want to talk. “Was it awkward for you?” she settled with.

 

And keeping with the straightforward honesty, Beca replied, “Yes.”

 

“Oh, I-“ she reached over to cover Beca’s hand. “That wasn’t my intention, I swear. I just wanted to say hi. I’m sorry.”

 

Beca flipped her palm upwards and slotted her fingers into place. She almost wished their hands didn’t fit so well. “Don’t be, please. I shouldn’t have been surprised. You’re a grown woman. We aren’t together.” She turned her head away from Chloe’s sad face because it _hurt_.

 

“Hey, Becs,” suddenly a soft, soft hand wrapped around the back of her neck and _fuck_ , “I know this is hard for you,” her face was guided back around and Chloe’s forehead rested against her temple. “It isn’t easy for me either.”

 

Beca chose to stay silent and enjoy the moment rather than continuing the conversation. They weren’t going to get anywhere with that topic, anyways; they couldn’t. They wordlessly adjusted themselves so Beca could wrap her arm around Chloe’s shoulders and the redhead’s cold nose was in her neck. Beca waited for the sun to start setting before she spoke again.

 

“Stace and I wont be at school tomorrow or Friday.”

 

Chloe hummed sleepily and lifted her head to look at her. “Mm. Why not?”

 

“Tomorrow is my birthday, Friday is hers. We have-“ and Beca hesitated because she couldn’t say that the pack skips school to shift into wolves and run wild through the woods all day. “Long standing traditions to uphold.”

 

Chloe eyed her suspiciously but shrugged it off and wished her a good time. “We’re having a joint birthday party at the club Friday night. It’s a masquerade. You and Posen are invited; free entry and you’ll be on the guest list if you’re interested.”

 

The teacher said she would talk to her friend about it and they mutually agreed it was time to go inside. After a soft goodbye at Chloe’s door, Beca almost ran straight into Aubrey and Stacie sitting on the stairs to the second floor, talking quietly. “Whoa, sorry, guys.” She moved to step passed the duo but Stacie, loyal and loveable Stacie, must have seen something in her expression because her hand shot out to grip Beca’s wrist. “Okay?” Her green eyes darted towards the door Chloe disappeared into and back to Beca’s stormy blue eyes. “I’m okay, Stace, I promise.”

 

Once Beca let herself inside and was probably on her way to a relaxing shower, if Stacie knew her at all, the brunette returned her attention to the beautiful blonde sitting next to her. Aubrey was looking at her strangely.

 

“You two are very close.” The chemistry teacher nodded towards the door near them.

 

The smile came to her face without thought and so did the reply, “Life partners. Without being a couple, or whatever.” And they laughed together before the blonde’s face went soft and wistful. “Yeah, I get it. Chlo and I were like that, once upon a time, before Brad.”

 

“Hm. I’m not sure if you really want my opinion on that.” They bumped shoulders playfully.

 

“No, probably not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: so i wrote a steca sex scene because i couldn't get it out of my head. they will do the deed in a future chapter but i'm wondering if you guys want all the sordid details? or would you prefer just the gist of it? let me know.


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